


Home Run

by goodmorningvietnam666



Series: Batter Up! [4]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Clint needs an anger management class, Established Relationship, Humor, Loads of Character Development, M/M, Romance, Time Travel, Tony's Issues Have Issues, and probably one about relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 18:08:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6818644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodmorningvietnam666/pseuds/goodmorningvietnam666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five months after Tony Stark disappears during a fight with the Green Goblin, he returns battered and bruised, begging to be locked away. At first, no one is sure what to think, but after some careful digging, Clint learns that his friend/partner had been to the future and back. </p>
<p>And what a nasty future it had been. </p>
<p>People from that time are leaking through, trying to kill Tony for his interference, and Clint knows that Stark can barely stand on his own two feet, let alone fight murderous AI's. </p>
<p>So he takes it on himself to step in.</p>
<p>So much for that nap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Run

**Author's Note:**

> Ooookay, here we go, that last part of Batter Up!
> 
> To explain what has gone down with the series, it's best to simply say that university and writing a novel are both really distracting, but hopefully, I can get back into the swing of things. 
> 
> So, knock on wood, after this first chapter, the ball will roll and I'll manage to churn out Part 4. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone for your continued support and patience!

The sharp sound of arrows hitting their predetermined targets filled the empty room, the metal shafts glinting in the light of a slowly rising sun, the light hot even in the early hours of the morning. The sound of an industrial-sized fan cooling the room hummed overhead, and the commotion of early risers can be heard from behind the door. 

“I think you might be off centre by a few millimetres there, Sera”

He and Tony had been sequestered in this room during the twilight hours of the day, not a word spoken between them despite the heavy silence. He had taken to firing arrows at the walls, drawing targets to measure his accuracy as the night crawled on. 

For almost five months, Tony Stark had been missing, SHIELD had scrambled to find him, and Clint had worked himself to the point of collapse in the effort to find his team-mate, friend, and partner. Then, out of the blue, Tony turns up again, bloody and eccentric, passing out from exertion and giving them no information of where he had been for almost half a year. 

He’d been eerily quiet, refusing to answer Clint’s desperate line of questioning, and once he had the strength to stand Fury had put them in a room together so that Clint could eek some answers out of his partner. 

This was the first thing Tony had said since Fury had left the room.

“Sorry to disappoint, Dorian” he quipped back, more out of habit than defence, and wasn’t disappointed when Tony laughed softly. 

“Does that make Steve the Inquisitor?”

“More like Alistair – good natured, but with issues he hides really well – Bruce is Anders”

“You’ve thought about this”

“I had some spare time while I was searching for you”

Clint almost felt guilty when Tony’s grin fell away, but tried not to let that feeling show “We need to talk and you know it” he urged. 

“I can’t talk about it Clint… I don’t want to talk about it” the joking was long gone, and it should have made him nervous, but the aversion only succeeded in making him angrier. 

“Whether you want to or not, you went missing for _five months_! We need an explanation” he shook his head and dropped the bow in his hand before he used it to make his partner a human pincushion “If not me, then Fury; he’ll need you to give him something”

“I haven’t even figured out what to say, let alone how I’ll say it, if you give me-”

“I’ll be giving you nothing Stark, Fury will give you nothing: you came back to us covered in blood, demanding that we lock you away, and you think SHIELD, Fury, or me are just going to let you go on your way?!” he sighed, closing his eyes, wishing he had some sort of control over his temper. 

He had only returned from a mission in Afghanistan days before Tony had disappeared, had seen his partner on the day he disappeared, he considered this all his own fault: if he had insisted that he helped Tony, maybe his disappearance could have been prevented. He was at the end of his chain and even Tony Stark wasn’t about to receive his patience very easily. 

Tony sighed and it brought his attention back to the silent room, the other man ran his hands through hair that hadn’t seen a brush in what looked like a long time, and their eyes meet “You’re right, I know, I’m sorry…”

“Tony I’m _trying_ ” he crossed them room and stood close, but didn’t reach out, still unsure how their relationship worked, and what the milestones were “I’m trying to be patient because I know that whatever shit you went through was rough, but you can’t shut me, or SHIELD, out of this one – you came back _critical_ , the doctor’s didn’t know whether to fix you or make it easier on you to die: they still won’t tell me anything about your injuries… if not to ask for help, then at least tell me because I’m asking you to, as your friend, and as someone who loves you” 

“They wouldn’t tell you what was wrong with me?” Tony asked, and when Clint shook his head the other man’s brow furrowed “All of this red tape is starting to hurt my eyes”

“Tell me about it”

Tony sighed again, heavy and drawn out, and he closed the gap that Clint had left, their chests and thighs touching as the other man’s chin rested on his shoulder “Kang was responsible for those building disappearances, he brought me to an alternate world for whatever messed up reason… we made a deal: I save that world, he brings me back to mine”

“You made a deal with Kang? The alien with a god complex?”

“Clint I had two choices: deal with Kang or stay stuck in dystopia: I did what I had to” Tony shifted slightly and Clint wrapped his arms around him tightly, holding on so that the other man wouldn’t back away from him and fidget “Turned out that it wasn’t alternate 2016, but instead was our future… it wasn’t a good future so, obviously, I stopped the guy responsible and came back with Kang, as he promised… the guy in charge had a number one, who tried to follow us through and ended up nearly killing me in the process, that’s why I turned up injured”

He was being intentionally vague, but Clint didn’t have the heart to push him further “Okay, I’ll get that written down and give it to Fury so we can out of here”

“Thank you” Tony sighed softly, returning the embrace with fervour.

///

The house was quiet. 

It annoyed the crap out of him. 

Usually there was music, a movie, or even the faint sounds of machinery to fill the mansion, but tonight it was damn near silent. Clint had taken to pacing, a bad habit he’d picked up from Tony, up and down the length of a window, alternating between running his hands through his hair or biting one particular nail. 

There were so many questions left unanswered, so many things they hadn’t sorted out yet, and he didn’t know how to ask, especially when Tony had all but collapsed once they had returned home, barely getting a bed sheet over his waist before falling asleep. 

Clint was too wired to sleep, and had wandered the mansion before beginning his pacing, anxious for his partner. 

This was exactly why he didn’t get romantically involved with people: he started caring too quickly and too intensely. 

The pacing stopped and he stepped outside and scaled the wall to reach the roof, taking a breath of chilled New York air and sighing, taking in the artificial light that bathed the city in oranges, reds and off-yellows. 

He and Fury had argued before they had left the helicarrier, and it was likely one to be remembered by every SHIELD agent near the office because Clint had _yelled_ at his boss: a man he respected fiercely but who frustrated him beyond belief: he was shocked that he hadn’t been fired on the spot.

He answered his phone when he felt the minute vibration in his pocket, watching a helicopter overhead as he did so “Coulson” he greeted softly. 

_“I heard you and the Director got into it over Stark”_

“He wanted to know more… I… Tony’s been through enough”

_“Tony? What happened to Stark?”_ Coulson sounded amused, and Clint could imagine a smug smirk. 

Clint chuckled softly and shook his head, walking the perimeter of the roof “Did I mention that we’re dating? Because we are”

_“I’m happy for you”_

“Thanks. At least someone is”

_“What do we know about what happened to Stark?”_

“You haven’t read my report?”

_“Nope, thought I’d hear it from you – I’m also in Australia right now – it’s sort of difficult to read a file when I can’t access it”_

“Stark won’t talk much, but he went to the future and made some enemies” Clint answered, pinching the bridge of his nose and then rubbing at his eyes “That’s all I know… I… Coulson I want to push but…”

_“It’s Stark, I get it… let him tell you in his own time: there’s no immediate threat and so there’s nothing to worry about”_

“Thanks Coulson”

_“Take care son”_

It felt too quiet when Coulson hung up, but Clint ignored the empty feeling and watched the sky for a moment longer, a plane flying overhead passed, and then what sounded like a jet zipped by lower to the ground. 

He turned to leave the roof, but the soft sound of something falling caught his attention and he looked to the sky again, watching a dark, reflective shape descending towards the area at a damaging speed. 

His first thought was bomb but on second observation it almost looked like a person, and Clint wondered if it was a villain, or something mundane. For once he found himself hoping for a villain. 

The thing crashed fist first to the asphalt, sending traffic squealing to a halt, swerving to avoid the obstacle, and sending pedestrians back against building walls in muted shock. He watched for a while longer as this thing rose from a crouch (classic super-hero landing if you asked Deadpool) and look around slowly, as though analysing its surroundings. 

Then it attacked, a red beam of light shooting from its right hand, tearing up the side of a brickwork building, sending debris scattering into the retreating civilians. 

Clint ducked back indoors, took up a gun from where his SHIELD jumpsuit was sitting, struggled into that, and raced back outside. He hated the modern weapon, but it was faster than stringing a bow and he needed to act now. He thought about waking Tony, but if his partner could sleep through this, and was tired enough to collapse on impact with the bed, then Clint decided that it would be better to let him sleep, even if he faced something potentially deadly. 

He stepped back out onto the street and into chaos, people were no longer standing in shock, but were vacating the streets, leaving cars and bikes behind to get away from the red beams throwing glass, metal and brick across the road and into alley ways. 

Clint shot off two bullets, they bounced off of the assailer’s shoulder and head and he cursed: of course it was metal. “Hey!” he shouted as it turned, levelling the gun again, shooting once more at it’s turned head, chipping the surface of its face. 

It shot at him in reply and he dived out of the way, shooting again and drawing its attention away from the civilians “Come on!” he called, shooting again and ducking into an alleyway, sprinting down its length and darting to the left, barely avoiding the red beam that was shot down the alley. 

He checked the clip of the gun in his hand: eight bullets. 

He swung around the corner, stalking back into the alleyway, gun raised at the thing evenly as it seemed to examine him for a moment. Clint cried out when the thing charged him, it’s metal body likely bruising him as it lifted him into the air and threw him onto a roof. 

The gun scattered away, stopping only an arm’s distance away, and Clint scrambled for it, crying out when a metal foot stood on his outstretched hand, the other knocking the gun away. 

_**“Poor Human”**_ it said, tone mocking and eerily life-like _**“Weak bones and skin that are so easily broken”**_ it lifted him by his trapped arm, and Clint registered that it was about Thor’s height, given how sore his shoulder was growing as it held him there, it’s expression registering surprise for a brief moment _**“Impossible, your heroics had you killed years…”**_ it trails off, expression falling back into one of assurance **_“No matter, you will die as you did before”_**

It’s free hand slowly lit up with the deadly red light once more, but before it fired, the energy sputtered out and died. Clint sighed in relief and attempted to kick out of the things grip, shouting when he was thrown across the roof in anger, the red lighting up and dying once more. 

**_“Know this Hawkeye”_** it shouted, jets starting up as it hovered on the roof **_“I am Ultron, and you, along with the rest of this world, will fall”_**  
 


End file.
